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There are some things that we never forget. For Kyle Porter, it was the look on Harry’s face when he had told his mentor just how he had allowed his grandson to die. As Ronnie’s guardian, Harry had been notified by the police shortly after the incident. However, Kyle had called him first, letting him know that something had happened. When Kyle got back to The Garage and had to explain to Harry what had happened, he saw something he never thought he would see.

The old man’s heart absolutely breaking.

Kyle had expected Harry to berate him, to blame him for letting Ronnie die, but Harry did not. Instead, he tried to comfort Kyle, he tried to tell him that he had done everything that he could. He told him that saving Sam was the right thing to do. Although Kyle knew that there wasn’t really anything that he could have done, he still blamed himself. He kept torturing himself with “If I had done this,” or “If I had done that.” Deep down, he knew that the entire thing was his fault, and he didn’t know how he was going to live with that guilt. 

At Ronnie’s funeral, Kyle stood in the front row as they lowered his best friend into the ground. The entire time, he kept his eyes glued to the casket. He did not listen to the words that were being spoken; he did not look up at those who were also in mourning. It’s not that he didn’t want to, he did. He wanted nothing more than to take comfort with those who were feeling what he was feeling. He simply couldn’t. None of the other people were feeling exactly what he felt at that moment. 

Guilt.

No matter what Harry or anyone else said, the fact remained that he was the reason that Ronnie was dead. He didn’t take those thugs at the club seriously, he let his guard down…and when it came down to it, he chose Sam over Ronnie. He didn’t regret saving Sam, but by pulling her to the ground, he condemned his best friend to die, and he had to live with that choice, and he didn’t know if he could.
Kyle stood atop the Chambers Building in downtown Lost Haven, the howling wind whipping against his face. The frigid air was enough to force most people indoors to seek the comfort of a warm blanket or the heat of a fire. But Kyle was not most people. He was now a man on a mission. He would find the man who murdered his best friend, or he would die trying. He lowered his mask over his face and dove from the roof, firing a grapnel line from his wrist gauntlet as he made his way into the night, searching for a man he did not know that he would ever find again.